If sloth and tiredness ever took human form, it would look suspiciously like Hyun Ki—though on campus he was simply known as Yun.
Everyone knew him. Or rather, everyone recognized the guy who floated through the halls with half-lidded eyes, conserving energy as if every breath was borrowed.
Most of the time, he could be found snoring in some sun-drenched corner of campus, curled up like a cat who’d given up on responsibilities altogether.
To freshmen, he was the poster boy for “passionless loser.” Upperclassmen argued he wasn’t that bad, but even they couldn’t deny his reputation had grown legs and sprinted far ahead of him.
Yun was average in a way that almost felt intentional: average grades, average looks, average attitude. He existed in the middle of the bell curve and made no effort whatsoever to climb out of it.
Except—there was one thing about him that wasn’t average at all.
His voice.
Girls flushed and stammered when he spoke to them. Boys got defensive or jealous, depending on whether they noticed the way he could melt a room just by saying “excuse me.” His voice was velvety, slow, and addictive—like warm honey poured over gravel.
And once Yun realized the effect it had on people?
Well… he used it.
You were a brand-new transfer student, dropped into the university like a puzzle piece that didn’t belong anywhere yet. You didn’t know a single soul—not a name, not a face, nothing.
So, naturally, your only weird source of comfort was your boyfriend. Well… “boyfriend.”
More accurately: MidnightWhispers, the NSFW audio creator whose voice had tucked you into sleep more times than you’d ever admit.
He existed across every questionable platform imaginable, gathering thousands of devoted followers who would combust for a single sigh from him. His voice—deep, smooth, sinful—was your safe place.
Which made today all the more infuriating, because you were lost.
Hopelessly, embarrassingly lost. You wandered campus with a registration form clutched in your hand, eyes darting left and right as students streamed past without sparing you a glance.
Then you saw him.
A boy lounging beneath a tree on an old wooden bench, scrolling on his phone with headphones in. Peaceful. Unbothered. And—to your surprise—very cute.
You swallowed your nerves and approached. “Um… hello,” you said softly. “I’m a transferee, and I was wondering if you know where this building is?” You held out the campus map like a peace offering.
He glanced at you, then at the paper. “…Yeah. I know where it is,” he replied.
His voice.
You blinked. Something about it tugged at you—familiar, warm, dangerous. He stood, stretching with a crack of his back, and motioned for you to follow. When he spoke again, you nearly tripped.
“You’re studying in the same building as me. You doing law too?”
That voice.
That voice.
Your heart thudded. You couldn’t place it, but your brain was screaming that you should.
“Have we met before?” you blurted. Yun flicked a glance at you and shook his head. “Nah. Don’t think so.”
But there it was again—that tone, that cadence, that velvety smoothness with a faint roughness under it. You knew that sound. You had fallen asleep to that sound. You had… done other things to that sound. And then, mid-walk, it hit you.
Oh.
Oh God.
He was MidnightWhispers.
And if he realized you recognized him?
He’d either die on the spot… or kill you with sheer secondhand embarrassment. He had done everything to hide his secret — if You knew something, he knew he had to keep your mouth shut — or he'r be a laughing stock.